


Change (in the house of Bats and Jesters)

by phoenixjustice



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: RIP
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M, So the usual when it comes to them, What could have happened at the end of Batman RIP instead, brief mention of Bruce/Jezebel Jet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24600877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixjustice/pseuds/phoenixjustice
Summary: The dichotomy of things that made up The Joker was something that should not make sense.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Change (in the house of Bats and Jesters)

**Author's Note:**

> For Sasha.
> 
> I can only hope you like how this turned out! <3

Change (in the house of bats and jesters)

By: PhoenixJustice

Pairing: Batman/Joker.

Setting: sometime post _Batman R.I.P._ Spoilers for it and other comics to be expected.

Summary: The dichotomy of things that made up The Joker was something that should not make sense.

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He groans and starts to stir, when a hand stills him, running through his hair.

"Shh. Shh, my darling." A voice says, familiar. "You're still recovering. Sleep."

"Can't...sleep." He croaks.

"Oho. Finally waking up for real, are we? Wonderful."

The hand in his hair continues to stroke his head. It feels nice. He can't recall the last time he has ever been in such a relaxing position. This felt even nicer than that. His hazy recollection of events made him remember that he had been fighting Hurt. A helicopter. Water. And then...what?

And now he was...lying somewhere? His eyes glance around but he does not recognize the small wooden building. The material seemed like a standard bed but he was too weak to move. But strong enough to turn his head to see who was stroking his head.

Joker looks down at him, smiling. His smile was surprisingly soft and deep.

"You've been asleep for a long time, Bruce." Joker says.

Bruce stares at him. Joker had been there when Hurt and Jezebel had used Bruce's name rather liberally, his birth name, but hadn't given any outward indication when hearing it. Had he...known already?

"Where are we?" He whispers. He swallows, his throat feeling unbelievably parched. How long had he been asleep? Out?

"Ah, that can wait. Here."

Joker lifts up Bruce's head, cradling it as he puts a glass of water to his lips. Ahh… refreshing didn't begin to cover the feeling as...no! He was letting himself be lulled into a false sense of...of…

He tries to push at Joker but his limbs do not obey him, too weak to do so.

"What did you do?" He manages to hiss out.

Joker just looks at him for a moment, before his head tilts slightly in that familiar (so much about Joker was _familiar_ to Bruce. In all of this time, all of these years…)

"When I came to my own senses there, in the water," Joker says in lieu of answering Bruce directly. "I saw the wreckage all around me. Not from the ambulance I had stolen, but from a _helicopter._ I had been unconscious so I hadn't heard the explosion but as I was treading the water I saw you there. Managed to swim with you to the shore and pull you to the nearest place I could find. Not much but I've done more with less before."

"You killed-" He coughs. Then coughs again.

"That's why you should stop talking," Joker chides, rubbing at Bruce's back. "You're still recovering."

"Why do you care?" He rasps.

The hand on his back stills.

"You _know_ why." Joker whispers.

Quiet. Then:

"Stop talking." Joker says, gentler than he expects. "And no, I didn't kill anyone. Don't know if whoever lived here was killed or killed _himself_ or ran away or what but," He shrugs his shoulders. "It was empty when we got here. Wish there had been more leftover though. I don't think this outfit does _anything_ for my figure."

He stands for a moment, twisting here and there and Bruce can make out the words _Joe's Garage_ on the back of the denim jumpsuit that Joker wore.

"But well," Joker continues, shrugging again. "There was only so much clothing and you needed that much more than I, darling. Wearing your wounds of war as you have been."

He sits back down on the bed, looking down at Bruce with a lucidity he has not seen in his eyes in longer than he can remember. No...even then, during the worst moments, there was a lucid man lurking beneath the madness, wasn't there? The dichotomy of things that made up The Joker was something that should not make sense.

That did not _make sense,_ not if it were anyone else. But Joker had always been something special.

"Fighting your bonds," Joker says, running a hand along the mattress, not quite touching Bruce, his green eyes never leaving his face. "Crawling your way, _fighting_ your way out of the grave they made for you...I bet on you, you know. I hope you know that. That you would make free of the restrictions they put upon you. That they thought they could _defeat_ you! _You!_ Defeat _my Bat?"_

The last bit is said in an angry hiss. Joker pulls back his hand a second later, curling into a fist as he stares down at it.

"But I knew." The clown continues, quietly. "Because you always break free. You always astound those in your vicinity. Those that know of you, your legend, the things you craft for yourself...people always underestimate you, somehow. But not I. No...you know that don't you, Bruce? Because who knows you better than I, after all of these years?"

He cannot find his voice. Weakness of limbs keeps him from standing and the utter sincerity in Joker's words keeps Bruce from finding his own.

Joker lays next to him, almost curled up, eyes bright with-Bruce is shocked to see-tears.

"Who knows you better than I, Bruce?" Joker asks, more urgently now. "Who? Haven't I done everything after all of this time? What more do I have to _do?"_

"Is this…" Bruce coughs, swallows, and tries again. "...a dream?"

Had the dream state put upon him not faded yet and this was merely an extension of things? But there was no Batman of Zur en Arrh here. There was no madness or heightened sense of self like there had been then. He remembered clearly fighting his way out of his own coffin, fighting the Black Hand, fighting Hurt, going into the water…

"I wish." Joker says, almost mournfully. "Things always seem to go better in there."

He strokes through Bruce's hair again, as if unable to stop himself, and Bruce cannot say anything against it, can only stare at Joker with something like wonder.

"I can touch you all I want there." Joker says, huskily. His eyes seem to expand as they look upon Bruce's face with a naked hunger that Bruce can not excuse away like he usually did, would. "And then…"

Bruce waits, knowing, inevitably, that Joker will speak again. He cannot help himself.

And he does.

"It's not so confusing then." Joker's eyes close and he sits his head next to Bruce's, his hand stilling. "I don't have to try so hard."

"Why...do you think you have to try hard?"

Joker's eyes open back up, his brows furrowing.

"You're the beacon, darling. How else am I supposed to get your attention? I had hoped, after our Euro trip, that things would have...changed...but you took to your side quicker than even I expected. It was...disappointing."

"I can't be what you are." Bruce manages to say.

Joker laughs, slightly sardonically. "Of course not, darling. I wouldn't want you to! I love you for what you are, as you are, you know?"

Love. He speaks of _love_ so easily.

"But I am only what I am...how could someone like _I_ get your attention? So, I am whatever you need as a foil, your opposite, the chaos to your order. I will forever be your mirror, so that way, you can always see me, your reflection. Because, after all, hate and love are a thin line on either side of the other."

Bruce shakes his head weakly, trying to speak, but starts to cough again. Joker rubs his back, soothing him as if he had done it a million times.

"Don't try and speak, darling. I told you." Joker scolds. "Just rest. It's alright. And once you are well enough, then we can continue as we have been. I will always give you what you need."

The coughs subside and he gestures for the water again. Joker helps him take a few more drinks, setting the cup down on the bedside table before going back to stroking his hair. The gesture continues to be a soothing one, as Bruce starts to find his voice again, bolstered by the water and by Joker's surprising sincerity and courage in the words he spoke.

"What if I don't want that?" He asks him.

Joker stares at him for a long moment, biting down so hard on his lip he is surprised it doesn't draw blood.

"You have to." Joker finally whispers.

"Why?"

"I cannot be without you, Bruce."

Bruce shivers. The need and want in Joker's eyes is something he can't deny to himself anymore.

"What if I don't want things to be the way they always have been?" He tries again. "What if I am...willing. To give it a try."

Joker's eyes widen and he is above Bruce, growling. "Do not say things you don't mean! Don't…" He slumps a bit, barely keeping himself above Bruce. "Don't give me hope."

Bruce moves a hand, shaky with tiredness, hesitantly touching Joker's hair. Joker jerks, eyes darting to him in surprise.

"The deeds you have done are numerous and horrible."

"Yes." Joker agrees. "Nearly all of them."

"I cannot ever forget them."

"No. I would never expect you to. You are too good for that."

"But," Bruce says, drawn, as he often was, to Joker's striking green eyes. "There is a capacity there for more. I've seen that. Here and there. At times, sometimes, you didn't wish for me to see."

Joker shakes his head. "What does that mean? What are you getting at?"

The sting of Jezebel's betrayal feels strangely distant now, already fading, as if once he allowed himself this, that he was forced to see things as they truly were.

"What do you think?" He whispers.

Joker shakes his head again, more violently now, his eyes growing wild. "Don't _do_ that. Don't give me _hope."_

He slumps back down, next to Bruce, curling up again.

"Don't." He says miserably.

"Joker."

"No! I don't want to hear it." His eyes are wrenched closed, hands to his ears.

"Be with me."

It's the most honest, most open, most _sincere_ thing he's ever said.

He grabs at Joker's hands, making him look up at Bruce. His eyes were filled with tears.

"What?" Joker's voice was wrecked with emotion.

"Be with me."

He places his forehead against Joker's.

"Be with me."

Joker's eyes closed and he lets out a shaky breath.

The next thing Joker says is the most honest thing that _he_ has ever said.

" _Yes."_

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End file.
